


Fake It

by DemonDeepFried



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BAMF, BAMF Reader, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Fighting, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Violence, Zombies, cannibals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has been part of the group for a while but, to the best of their knowledge: she’s the weak one, the one that needs to be protected. So when they’re attacked in the middle of the night, no one expects her to do anything other than ball up on the floor and wait for the others to save her. <br/>Gods, were they wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake It

You knew full well how the rest of the group envisioned you, ever since they had found you wandering through a woods with your younger brother.

_Weak._

It didn’t bother you as such, in fact it provided an excellent cover-up for you and your little brother, Scott- it meant that neither of you were called upon and you could easily reassure him quietly in the corner. Of course, the rest of the group immediately thought that you were cowering away back there, too, which you shrugged off.

The opinions of anyone else concerning you, didn’t bother you in the slightest. They could think you were weak. They could think you were Chuck freaking Norris. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

“Y/N?” A gruff voice came from above where you sat with Scott by the fire. Looking up, you saw Daryl and an involuntary smile quirked your lips. He returned it gingerly and continued, “We’re stopping here tonight, just wanted to let you know so the two of you can kip down.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, you watched him leave. _Damn_ , you thought miserably, _if only he washed a little more and there were slightly less zombies, I would be_ all _over that ass._

Chewing your lip in thought, you scanned your surroundings and a deep frown furrowed your brow. Why were you stopping here? You were right in the middle of a clearing, no defence on any side and plenty of cover for any attackers. Already uneasy, the nauseating feeling of _this isn’t right– this is very, very wrong_ turned your stomach over and over until you were settling Scott’s pre-teen body on the top of your bag and striding over to Daryl.

**Not scared. Just cautious.**

“Daryl,” you greeted, your voice betraying you as the caution slinked wickedly into the air. At his turn to face you, you went on, “I really don’t think we should camp here tonight. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this- we have no wall of defence if were attacked an-”

He cut you off quickly, saying firmly, “Y/N, it’s fine. Nothing’s gonna happen, just calm it and get Scott and yourself down and get some rest. We’ve got this.”

A growl bubbled threateningly in your throat but you choked it back down and just glared at him. Instinct had gotten you this far, you doubted it would fail you now, and his dismissive response made you bristle. To hell with his good looks and irresistible demeanour, sometimes you just wanted to clock him one around the face.

With a fucking chair.

But you didn’t think with your fists, so you reluctantly returned to Scott, but you didn’t tuck him down to bed. Instead, you discreetly -because you valued inconspicuism above most, especially now, and had learned to live your entire life in the background- packed up your things in your bag and checked your weapons. Nobody had yet realised you carried weapons, ignorantly believing that you still relied solely on the rest of your pack.

Checking them off in your head, you went through your methodical, metal list:

_Serrated blade in left boot- check_

_Hunting knife strapped to right thigh- check_

_Carving knife in top zip pocket of bag- check_

_Switch blade_ _in Scott’s coat lining- check_

_Butterfly knife in jacket lining- check_

_Penknife in pocket- check_

And finally, _two daggers hidden up your sleeves- check_

Knives and blades was where your speciality lay. But most of all with your two beloved daggers; they had been your father’s before he passed (thankfully before the end of the world) and you had grown up training with them.

**Not obsessed. Just prepared.**

Lastly, as the sky darkened, you led Scott away from the camp and to the edge of the small clearing. Helping him climb into a nearby tree with thick-enough branches, you secured him and your bags as high as they would both be comfortable.

“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear before you descended again. “What’s going on?” He knew well to keep his voice to a hush and rarely spoke above this volume anyway.

Giving him a comforting smile and squeezing his hand in yours, you replied, “I don’t trust this place. I don’t think we should be staying here but I can’t anybody to listen, so you’ll be sleeping up here tonight. You’ll be safe here, I promise. In the morning, I’ll come and get you down but you’re not to come down before I’ve come to get you, understood?”

“But why aren’t you staying up here with me?” asked the young brunet, sniffing indelicately.

Huffing a small sigh, you explained, “I want to keep an eye on them. And besides, they’ll get suspicious if they notice us both gone. Ok, Scott?”

Nodding his acquiesce, Scott wrapped his skinny arms around your neck and you pulled him in for a tight hug.

Planting a kiss on his cheek, you promised him, “Everything’s gonna be fine, Scott, I’m just playing safe, alright?" 

"Alright.”

“Night night, Scottie.”

“Night night, Y/N.”

**Not paranoid. Just safe.**

* * *

_You were right_.

Ears straining for any out-of-place noises all night, you immediately picked up on the slight rustle of part of a bush lining the clearing.

Quicker than a flash, you were crouched down, eyeing the bush and simultaneously flicking your sharp eyes around the entire camp. Resuming your defensive stance was something that came naturally to you, and without even processing the action, you felt the familiar cool handle of your two daggers slide from your sleeves into your palms’ grasp.

Nothing happened for a moment.

But you knew better than to dismiss even the smallest of odd noises.

Especially the smallest ones.

_Careless blundering -twigs snapping everywhere, bushes rustling like a flurry and guttural grumbling- meant zombies._

_Quiet, controlled movement meant something so much worse._

The rest of the camp was asleep, even the watchers had succumbed to the enticing tendrils of slumber after the strenuous day you had had- there was no way they would be up and prepared in time to protect themselves.

Not from those who hunt their own kind.

Judging by the hushed whispers and number of muffled footfalls you counted, a conclusion of the party containing at least five made your breathing stop. More so when you heard the all-too-familiar soft scrape of twig against metal.

Five attackers. Plus three- no, two guns, you counted– the tenuous strain in the air sending the information back to you.

**Not quiet. Just observant.**

Without moving, your gaze flickered away to the pitch-black of your right, for a moment, before returning to where the figures were- now you could make out their shadows clearer.

One male, 5'8, +one gun. Gangly limbs, no considerable muscle- may prove fast moving, **relies primarily on weapon**.

One male 6'1, +one gun. Ripped like gladiator- **may be slow** but undoubtedly strong.

One female 5'4, +long knife. Handling knife wrong, no previous training- **zero skill** but lean fists.

One male 5'9, +metal baseball bat. **Limp on right side** but upper body strength- has swung bat before.

One female 5'6, +machete. Practiced in use of weapon, undamaged knuckles- **relies primarily on weapon, cannot fight hand-to-hand well**.

Inhaling deeply, you slunk- unseen- through shadows until you were separated from the cannibals by just the wide bough of a tree. From your place, you could see that they were preparing to make a move, but before they could you had leapt on the 6'1 male. In the shock, the semi-automatic rifle slipped from his hands and clattered onto the floor, firing off a loud set of shots.

Well, _that_ woke the rest of the camp up.

A quick jab to the base of his skull with your blade and the gladiator sank to the ground.

Remembering the weapon in his hands, the gangly male pointed the barrel at where he had last seen you and fired off several shots. But you had already moved. Dodging his line of vision, you soon had him separated from the rest of his group and, with a _slice_ of your daggers across his throat, he too fell lifelessly.

Now, you were back in the clearing and facing the other three. The rest of your camp were both too stunned and too weaponless (it seemed the cannibals had smartly cornered off their weapons) to help you.

The woman with the machete was the first to approach, a smug smile already settled on her lips as she contemplated the idea of being the one to avenge both her companions. Making intricate designs in the air with her silver blade, she shot you a wicked grin before moving towards you.

She showed too much emotion on her face.

Before she’d even taken her offensive step forwards, you’d contemplated and pre-empted her movement. Twirling gracefully out of the way and slicing her stomach as you ducked under her arm; joining the three to one fight, the Machete’s two accomplices drove towards you with aggression.

They’re footfalls were rhythmic and predictable.

It took significantly less effort to slide out of their charge- managing to slice the sharp edge of the dagger across Zero-Skill’s face and kick Baseball’s right leg from under him.

The two of them went down with screams and groans of agony. Still clutching her face, Zero-Skill was starting to hyperventilate (shock, you realised) and Baseball was trying to nurse his un-cooperating leg back to standing. Machete had dropped her precious namesake in the scuffle and was searching for it desperately while she grasped her stomach in pain.

Poker face on. Mercy and finality blending into an intangible mess.

You slid to Zero-Skill’s side and slit her throat, crimson gushing down her front as she choked and vomited on her own blood. Pressing the other blade to Baseball’s neck, you slashed straight through the flesh before he could catch up to the situation.

Drawing yourself up to full height and back down to your readied stance: your stronger arm held forwards while your weaker was drawn close to your face; your legs spread shoulder width apart with one in front of the other. Machete had realised what was going on finally and she pounced on you with a flurry of fists (each and every one missing you by a flustered mile.)

Struggling with the over-adrenalized female, you managed to grasp her neck tightly with one hand before retracting the other. Without pause, it shot forwards and buried the pointed dagger in through the centre of her throat. Spluttered thrashing caused you to let go of her, dropping her dying body onto the ground.

Turning away, you didn’t even bother to watch her die.

**Not dwelling. Just forgetting.**

* * *

“Y/N,” everyone had greeted you that morning, after the confusion of the previous night had been sorted out, “You were amazing! I never knew you could fight like that!”

Acknowledging every praise with nothing more than a terse nod, you retreated to the tree where you had left Scott and climbed up to him.

“'Morning,” you smiled, seeing him already awake- you had taught him to rise with the sun. “There was some trouble last night. Did you hear it?” At his nod, you continued, speaking to him honestly, “Not zombies. Cannibals. Five of them. All dead. Daryl’s already gotten rid of the bodies and the weapons are being divided. If offered, you don’t take one. If spoken to, you don’t reply. Got it?”

He nodded, familiar with the rules between you two. Siblings stayed true. You two would. “Got it.”

“Good.” Embracing him tightly, you inhaled his scent deeply and sighed, glad to have him there with you. Then you set about removing the straps that had bound him safely to the wide branch and the two of you climbed down. “And the food?”

“Eat only what is in our bag and has been checked by both of us,” he replied without hesitation. “Don’t accept food from others. Ever.”

“That’s it,” you affirmed, ruffling his hair and chuckling at his annoyed pout. “I love you, Scottie.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

 Later, as everyone proceeded to congratulate you, Daryl approached you, an awkward expression on his face. “Y/N,” he began. “Sorry about not taking your worry seriously. And, umm, well for underestimating you…”

Rolling your eyes, you answered, “Leave it be. You can think what you want.”

“Well,” he murmured, looking you dead in the eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I know exactly what I think.”

**_Not weak._ **

**_Deadly._ **


End file.
